


two hearts in one home

by ophvelias



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Friendship/Love, Holiday Fic Exchange, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophvelias/pseuds/ophvelias
Summary: Her eyes catch on Fitz as he wrestles with the tape dispenser. He’s got several strips of it stuck to his fingers — one or two even caught in the sleeve of his sweater — and desperation etched across his features.





	two hearts in one home

**Author's Note:**

> A (belated) Fitzsimmons Secret Santa gift for @agentlukaofshield over on tumblr, whose prompt was 'christmas fluff.' I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and I wish you all the best in the new year. ♥
> 
> Title from 'Sweet Creature' by Harry Styles.

In the pleasant quiet of the living room, Jemma takes a moment to admire her work. 

She takes a step back and tilts her head, enchanted by the slow rotation of the golden ornaments dangling from the thick branches of the Christmas tree and the twinkling strings of lights strategically wound around them.

Logs steadily crackle in the fireplace off to her right, casting a faint golden glow over the otherwise dim room. Three red stockings line the mantle piece — one for Jemma herself, one for Fitz, and a collective one for all their loved ones back at the base. It’s not much, but it serves as a reminder, and she figures that’s something.

She takes a moment to savour the serenity of it all, knowing all too well that next Christmas is bound to be...different. She bites the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile at the thought.

Jemma moves towards the fire, reaching her hands out on instinct. She crouches down, letting the warmth of the flames brush against her skin. It slowly spreads through her body, curling her toes and pinking the apples of her cheeks.

It’s their first  _ proper _ Christmas together, and Jemma - in typical Jemma fashion -  wanted everything to be perfect. After all, the first experience leaves a lasting impression, and more than anything she wants their home to be filled with memories they can treasure in years to come.

It’s not a cottage, and it’s not exactly Perthshire, but it’s their own, and Jemma can’t even find it in her to be disappointed. A small semi-detached house in the suburbs of Glasgow, Jemma’s learned, can be every bit as homely as the cottage of her childhood dreams. And besides, it’s not the building that makes a home, but the people in it, and frankly, she couldn’t be happier.

Still. There are miles (3224.38 of them to be exact), several cities, three countries, and an ocean between them and their friends, and Jemma finds this new experience both exciting and unsettling. There’s still a tightness in her chest, a longing, an emptiness that can never quite be filled, no matter how long and frequent their phone calls are. It’s gotten slightly easier since Daisy’s assured her that she plans to bring everyone along to spend New Year’s with them, and Jemma’s been pretty much counting down the days ever since.

Jemma’s startled from her reverie by a groan, a quiet but unmistakable sound of frustration. She stands slowly, warm hands palming at her jeans to brush off the excess heat, and turns to meet the source of the noise.

She finds Fitz sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a large pile of presents lining the floor around him, waiting to be wrapped. There’s a roll of festive wrapping paper on the coffee table — a generic but jolly little Santa pattern she’d picked up from the store earlier that week — and a present lying in the middle of it. One of Daisy’s, Jemma assumes.

Her eyes catch on Fitz as he wrestles with the tape dispenser.

He’s got several strips of it stuck to his fingers — one or two even caught in the sleeve of his sweater — and desperation etched across his features. His brows pull down in a frown, and Jemma shakes her head sympathetically, a small gesture directed at herself more so than anything else, before crossing the room. She knows she  _ really _ shouldn’t find his struggle this endearing, but she just can’t help it.

“You okay?” Jemma asks softly, easing herself down onto the sofa next to him. She watches him for a moment, the flames from the fire casting a warm glow over his face.

Fitz shakes his head.

“You’d think I’d be able to do this, but…” He trails off, throat tight. He glances at his trembling hand where it hovers over the wrapping paper, and his frown deepens.

“It’s alright.” Jemma murmurs, reaching out to briefly close her own hand over the valley of his knuckles.

And then she drops her hand, moving it so that she’s cupping the gift and lining it up with the paper. Carefully, she starts folding in the edges, securing them with small pieces of tape.

Jemma doesn’t miss the puzzled look Fitz shoots her as she sets the perfectly wrapped box aside. She pauses, then smiles. “We’re gonna fix this - together. Isn’t that what you always say?”

Jemma runs a hand through his hair, fingertips sweeping over the nape of his neck and sliding down to rest on his shoulder. She gives it a small squeeze, and Fitz hums. Leaning in briefly, she presses a quick kiss to his temple.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “Together  _ is  _ better.”

“You hold and label, I cut and tape.” Jemma grins, bumping his shoulder. “And then I’m gonna make us some hot chocolate. How does that sound?”

Fitz nods as Jemma sets to work on wrapping the remaining gifts. He finds himself in awe as he watches her work, nimble fingers folding the edges of the paper with practised ease. There’s a serenity about her, a smoothness to her careful and deliberate movements. There is no anger, or frustration, only patience.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, chest tight with something like overflowing devotion. And just like that, Fitz feels himself falling that little bit more in love with her.

They steadily work their way through the gifts, folding, taping and labelling until all of them are satisfactorily wrapped and given Jemma’s nod of approval.

 

Twenty minutes and two mugs of hot chocolate later, Fitz and Jemma deposit the presents beneath the tree and curl up on the sofa together, watching the soft flickering of the Christmas tree lights.

Jemma tucks her legs under herself, leaning her head against Fitz’s shoulder. The warmth radiating from the fireplace and the slow stroke of his fingers through her hair makes her eyelids flutter.

Her hand slides over Fitz’s thigh as she laces her fingers through his.

“I didn’t have time to wrap yours this year.” Jemma says.

Fitz frowns.

“Your present.” She amends. “I didn’t—I didn’t wrap it this year.”

“That’s okay.” He tells her, dipping his head to press a quick kiss against her lips. “I don’t mind.”

And then she’s smiling, lips curving upwards in a mischievous smirk, and Fitz can’t help but feel there’s a joke in there somewhere, one he’s very obviously missing out on.

Jemma bites her lip as she carefully guides their entwined hands to rest against her stomach.

Fitz’s breath catches as their eyes meet.

He’s looking at her like he’s seeing her for the first time. He swallows, eyes darting all over her face. His lips are parted, mouth agape, something like wonder etched across his features.

“You’re…?” He trails off, breathless.

Jemma nods.

“Yes, I am.” She confirms, and there’s a hint of a smile in her voice. Her hands slide up to frame his face, stubble burning her skin where she’s got her fingers splayed out against his cheek. Pulling him closer, she presses her forehead against his. 

“Merry Christmas, Fitz.” She says.

He lets out a laugh, the warm, low sound vibrating through her ribcage. She slides her eyes shut and smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Jemma.”


End file.
